


Forever Grateful

by ead13



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair and Tabris were bffs, Alistair made the ultimate sacrifice, F/M, Zevran pays respects, hope you're happy Ferelden because this is your own fault, no more Theirins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 11:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16722909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ead13/pseuds/ead13
Summary: Prompt: All Souls Day is a time for mourning. Who has your OC lost and wants to honor?  Whether someone comes to support them is up to you.Zevran sneaks off to visit Alistair's memorial without Kallian, so he can offer his personal thanks.





	Forever Grateful

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably one of the least used endings of all time, but I couldn't imagine my Warden going along with the whole ritual thing, we had definitely gotten revenge on Loghain, and heck no was I letting them force Alistair to be king. The Warden dying would have also broken Zevran who had finally allowed himself to love someone, and that just couldn't happen.

“I wonder, what would you say if you saw all this, just for you?” Zevran mused to himself as his eyes scanned the grandiose granite statue in the likeness of his former ally. Even in the dim glow of the Denerim street lamps that surrounded the empty marketplace, he could make out all the features clearly, and he had to admit, the creators had done a passable job at capturing Alistair’s boyish charm in stone. As well they ought to, as Kallian had personally given them description in great detail as to how this tribute should look. 

“No doubt you’d make some quip about how they adore you now that you’re dead, even when in life they spurned you. I’d have to agree, my friend, the people of Ferelden were fools. Be glad you aren’t here, listening to them bemoan how the last of that fabled Theirin blood is gone. They never did deserve to have you as king, not after what they put you through.” And it was painfully true. Alistair, the bastard son of the former king, Marric, cast out of court, raised in the stables, given away to the Templars, was now revered by every man, woman, and child in Ferelden as the Hero of the Fifth Blight. Oh, he’d shown them their error, all right. If only it hadn’t cost him his life in the process… 

Zevran began to circle the monument, studying its composition. Alistair’s gaze was directed upwards into the distance, as if towards the heavens for divine guidance. Zevran knew better; he was looking up at the Archdemon that had ended his life even as he slew it. Even though he took on a martial appearance with his drawn sword and detailed armor, right down to the griffon emblem of the Grey Wardens, he somehow looked like a saint one would find in one of the great chantries of the capital. Fair enough. Despite how he’d grown up, Zevran knew the man to be one of the most innocent, kind-hearted people he’d ever known. Not that Zevran had been surrounded by good people throughout his life, but still.

Only one detail was off, and Kallian would no doubt be pissed: they’d put a crown on his head, highlighting his royal heritage. The heritage denied to him in life. The hypocrisy was unreal, but Zevran had better things to do right now than to dwell on it. He and Kallian could fume about it tomorrow when they came to pay respects together. Tonight, Kallian was visiting her father over in the Alienage, and he had excused himself to attend to personal business with the great hero honored here.

The Antivan finally took a seat at the foot of the statue and gazed up. “My friend, it has been a year already since the last battle. So much has changed, but I won’t bore you with the details; no doubt Kallian will do that tomorrow when she comes with me. I simply wanted to thank you again, man to man, for dealing that final blow. I guess with everything going on, with our search for Morrigan, we can say you and Kallian were probably right not to trust her with her ritual. You know I hate admitting to being wrong, but here I am.” Zevran paused, offering a dark chuckle. “So, in the end, one of you had to die after all. I suppose there is some comfort in knowing the sacrifice was truly necessary. It certainly doesn’t make it easier to bear.”

Zevran turned his eyes downward and heaved a sigh. “I can’t tell you how devastated she was to see you killed. You know, she blamed me at first, accused me of putting the idea into your head in an effort to save her. An understandable claim, I suppose, even if that wasn’t how things were. It took a long time for her to see with clear eyes that her best friend had made the choice for himself, to protect someone dear to him. It took longer still for her to understand that if she had taken your place, the despair she feels would be passed on to you instead. There never was a good outcome to be had.”

Finally, he looked back up, pausing for a moment. Alistair’s face was so serious. Most of his recollections of the man were of him offering sarcastic quips or getting flustered, but this had been the look the Grey Warden wore that day. He really did look like a hero. “I know you never really trusted me, even if you did come to accept me for Kallian’s sake. I also know you didn’t sacrifice yourself so we could be together, but Alistair…I will be forever grateful to you for saving her life.” Something strange was building inside of him as his words began to come out a bit choked and his eyes started to sting. “She means the world to me, like no one ever has. I…I love her, Alistair, and I can’t imagine what I would have done if she had offered herself instead. I have nothing to leave here at your memorial, and what need does a dead man have for a tribute anyhow? I just thought you should know how much I appreciate what you did. I will stay by her side until the end, no matter what happens, and will protect her with my life. That’s about the best thing I can swear to you, so you can rest in peace.”

The assassin rose abruptly, clearing his throat. “Besides all that, I do miss teasing you. Even if we weren’t the closest, you were my friend and ally. All debts of gratitude aside, I’m sorry that we had to lose you so soon. I wish you were here, blushing as all the accolades are thrown onto your name. You were a good man, Alistair Theirin, and I hope, someday, I can be a good man too. For both of your sakes.” 

Zevran spun around and began to walk away, gesturing to the statue behind him in farewell. “Anyhow, we will see you tomorrow. Don’t move, got it?”

He could almost hear Alistair’s disgusted snort at his lame joke, but he couldn’t help but see in his mind’s eye the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a smile.


End file.
